The Plunge Down Under

Resurfacing: The One Year Mark (Part II)

Last week I began to write about our family's progress through the process of repatriation, particularly as we have passed the one year mark.  "It takes a year" is a motto that has sustained me through ten household moves spanning four countries and three continents.  This motto has proven to be remarkably accurate.  It has often happened that eleven months into living in a new location I feel that I have made little progress.  Despair sets in, but then, somehow, once I arrive at the magical one year marker, I discover that I have begun to think (happily) of this new place as home, and that I can in fact name a friend or two.

It would seem that the "It takes a year" formula does not necessarily apply to repatriation.  A few days ago, R forwarded me an article from the Wall Street Journal website titled "Repatriation Blues: Expats Struggle with the Dark Side of Coming Home."  It confirmed what we both had been thinking and feeling.  One of the returned expats quoted in the piece claimed it took her two full years to begin feeling like a human being again.  Another woman mentioned that ten years after her return, she still did not have a best friend.  Several mentioned the persistent sensation of not quite fitting in even though one's surroundings are familiar.  It is also hard to shake the sense of grief and loss, the ache for what once was, and will never be again. 

Resurfacing: The One Year Mark

Almost exactly one year ago, our family stepped onto the tarmac at Pittsburgh’s International Airport and into the next phase of our lives.  Behind us lay four years of exciting adventures in Australia, (at least that’s what many readers told me it looked like in the pages of my blog--the reality was more prosaic).  Ahead of us an uncertain future awaited.  We suspected the transition would be difficult.  Fortunately we did not realize just how difficult it would prove to be.

One member of our family had no recollection of living anywhere other than Australia. He was the one who had declared several months earlier, "I'm not American!  I'm Australian!" Another child continued to beg to be allowed to finish her high school years by boarding at the school she had attended in Melbourne.   A couple of us had fought for months to chase away the anxiety over change that had relentlessly pursued us, stalking our dreams, preventing sleep, and causing us to wish we could just skip this next stage in the expat journey.   One of us was feeling unexpectedly intense pressure to find a job.  I think one of our number was excited.  All of us were certainly ready to unload our suitcases and be done with traveling for a very long time. 

Mother's Day 2015

Last year I had the privilege of enjoying two mother's days.  I woke up to the first one in Fiji, which proved to be a convenient stopping place en route as we moved from Australia back to North America.  After a lovely outdoor lunch at the resort where had spent four beautiful relaxing days snorkeling, swimming and reading, we loaded up our luggage and ourselves onto a boat and headed for the Nadi International Airport.